


cinnamon spice

by pipsqueakparker (lafbaeyette)



Series: fictober 2020 [19]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27113446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafbaeyette/pseuds/pipsqueakparker
Summary: Simon’s working late tonight.He got a new job at this little bakery on the other side of town. He positively loves it, I swear he came home after his first day already best friends with the entire staff. I don’t blame them, Simon’s a delight.The bakery likes to keep him late, though, which is less than ideal. I’m happy that he’s got a job he loves, and he has no issue with the hours, but I miss him. I work in the early mornings and he works late into the night. We have around an hour together between the end of my shift and the beginning of his, which is simply not enough.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: fictober 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949911
Comments: 6
Kudos: 93





	cinnamon spice

**Author's Note:**

> day 19: cinnamon spice
> 
> i started a new job today and i am tired but i managed to do the thing, here do be another fic
> 
> _god we've made it so far, huh, friends_

**BAZ**

Simon’s working late tonight.

He got a new job at this little bakery on the other side of town. He positively loves it, I swear he came home after his first day already best friends with the entire staff. I don’t blame them, Simon’s a delight.

The bakery likes to keep him late, though, which is less than ideal. I’m happy that he’s got a job he loves, and he has no issue with the hours, but _I_ miss him. I work in the early mornings and he works late into the night. We have around an hour together between the end of my shift and the beginning of his, which is simply not enough.

I’ve the day off tomorrow, though.

I don’t have to get in bed by a certain time, I’m not expected to be _anywhere_ tomorrow. Except for in my bed, under the sheets with the love of my life.

I’ve decided to bake him cookies while I wait. I’m not the greatest, definitely not as good as Simon, but snickerdoodles aren’t very hard. And I know he’ll love them.

The dough has already been mixed together, with minimal flour spilled on my clothes, and now I’m rolling it into balls between my hands and dipping them in a mixture of sugar and cinnamon. If Simon were here he’d be sneaking bites from the cookie dough, or sticking his finger in the cinnamon sugar. He’d be a menace.

I love that about him. I miss having someone around to annoy me day in and day out.

It’s nearing midnight when I put the first batch of snickerdoodles into the oven. I didn’t intend to make so many, but I didn’t pay attention to the size of the recipe. I suppose we could drop some off with Bunce and the Normal, maybe Simon or I can take some to work. I’m sure the kids I work with would love them.

The door lock clicks and I hear Simon’s heavy, thumping footsteps as he tumbles into the flat. I’ve watched his routine enough, he always comes in and drops his bag next to the door, then kicks his shoes off, shockingly without tripping over himself. ( _Barely_ without tripping over himself.) Then he’ll hang his coat, scarf, mittens, whatever other extras he’s pulled on before he left. Sometimes he’ll strip most of the way right there in the entryway.

I’m never complaining.

He’s done so tonight. When he finally pads into the kitchen he’s undressed down to his pants and a light purple shirt with the name of the bakery emblazoned across the chest. He stops when he sees me, lips curling up into the brightest smile. It warms me from the inside, I may melt a little.

“I thought you’d be asleep by now,” he says, moving close enough to wrap one arm around my waist. He pushes my hair out of the way, kisses my neck. “What are you doing up?”

“I don’t work tomorrow so I thought I’d wait up for you,” I tell him. Just as I predicted he would, he reaches out to snatch a finger-full of cookie dough and pops it into his mouth.

“And you’re making biscuits?”

“I was bored. You work too late.”

He laughs softly, right next to my ear, and then I feel him press his forehead against my shoulder. He smells like sugar and cinnamon spice on top of his usual ashy, woodsy smell. I let myself lean into him, relish in the feeling when he’s put both of his strong arms around me. There’s flour and bits of dough and chocolate beneath his fingernails, a smudge of coloring on his wrist.

“I’ve got to put this batch in,” I say with no intention of moving from my spot. “Are you hungry?”

Simon shakes his head, surprisingly. “Just tired.”

“Would you like to go on to bed?” I turn my head and kiss his temple. He shakes his head again.

“No, not yet. You’ve got biscuits in the oven.” He squeezes my middle once before stepping back. “You should put that in, then meet me on the sofa so we can cuddle while they bake.”

I quirk one brow in his direction, but of course I can’t say no. He knows it. He goes back to the lounge while I put in my second pan, then I follow to find him sprawled on his back over the sofa.

I crawl on top of him, carefully nestling myself half into the space between Simon and the cushions. His arms come up around me and he pushes my shirt up, just a bit, and he scratches his nails lightly over my back. It feels so _nice_.

I’m too low to kiss his mouth, so I settle for his chin. Then I open my mouth and bite it, gently, pulling a laugh that I feel bubble up through his chest. I close my lips around it, sucking gently on his chin, making him giggle again.

“Do you mind, Pitch?” He pinches my side and I jump, using my teeth to bite him again in retaliation. (In the human way, of course. Rather than the vampire way.)

We lay there poking and prodding and making each other laugh until the oven timer goes off.

These were the moments I missed the most. We’re both too tired to really do much more than lay here, but laying in his arms is all I need.


End file.
